


The Sun King

by LydiaWrenWolfram



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: F/M, Resurrection, Seriously if you haven't watched it yet, spoilers for s2 ep 07 Treasure of the sun.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaWrenWolfram/pseuds/LydiaWrenWolfram
Summary: Set directly after the screen goes dark on episode 7 of season 2, After Sweeney's death, will he be found worthy to be gathered or does the Morrigan have something different in mind... because of reasons.As I write more on this through the Hiatus, the rating will gradually go up to E because madwife nookie will happen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw the episode this idea came to mind. I don't know for sure if Sweeney will be resurrected, but I surely hope so in some form and fashion... and I expect that's all we'll write about forever. This explores my head canon of what he will be if he does return. I may make this a multi chapter and I may not... depends... do you want me to?

Strangely, the cold was the last thing he felt as he slipped into the darkness. He’d always heard that a body felt cold when dying but for him it was momentary as the last of his blood drained onto the cold concrete floor.

Darkness for the space of a few moments settled over him before he smelled sweet clover and felt the dampness of moss under him. It smelled like home. Oh, so this was heaven? The sweet, salty Irish air? He could handle this. 

“Caw!” One crow’s call called out and Sweeney groaned. Fuck maybe this was hell if those damned ravens were here… fucking birds... maybe he should have tried to spear them instead of Grimnir. His eyes couldn’t see yet, but he felt the light three pronged feet of a bird on his chest and the tiny peck-peck at his spear wound. “What?” he murmured, his throat dry and head beginning to hurt as if hungover. “Caw.” Came the call again, accompanied with a peck. 

His ability to see came then and he opened eyes to see a large crow setting on his stomach, she tilted her head and in that moment, he recognized her. The Battle Crow. “Morrigan.” He murmured in reverence and with a tiny bit of joy. She only gathered those that were worthy to be gathered from battle.  
“Long time to collect you, Shuibhne.” Her voice, husky and a little gravelly came as she transformed from bird to beautiful woman, with porcelain white skin, blood red lips and black hair to her waist. She wore a band of gold around her head and her hands replaced her bird feet and stroked up his chest closing all wounds in his incorporeal body.  
“Owed one-eye a battle.” He said, letting his head fall back against the moss, not moving. One didn’t make any moves when the battle crow was sitting on your literal soul.  
“Aye, and you owed me a death and a soul to collect.” She purred, shifting, her legs were straddling him with the innate sensuality that swam around her, her wispy black shift settling around her thighs, her breasts were bare. “You ran away from my banshees on the field that day long ago… I am glad you did not run away from them this time.” She raised a hand to caress his face, her touch cool, but not cold.  
“He… wanted me to do something I could not do.”

She smiled, her dark eyes watching him, “I have yet to hear this confession, mad one.” She petted his beard with her fingers, part motherly, part sensually and part madly herself, he felt the timbre of chaos brimming under her touch. 

Sweeney swallowed, his eyes locking with hers, “He had me kill an innocent woman. And I lost my coin to her.” He looked away, in death there was no hiding and there was most definitely no lying to the Morrigan. “And then I loved her.”

Morrigan’s laugh echoed against the rocks around them as she tilted her head back and let loose a hearty, yet feminine laugh, “Ye never lost it, Shuibhne.” She shook her head and shifted her bum teasingly, “Your good heart desired to bring her back from death, that is why you slipped it to the Moon Shadow’s hand... that is why you placed it back in her chest… and that is why you loved her.” She placed her hands on either side of him and leaned forward, her nose touching his, “You chose this path because you still knew who you were in your original soul that sprang from the same fount the rest of the Tuatha did. She stared at him, intensely and he felt his insides burning. Odd sensation when you’re not in a physical body. 

“Aye.” He murmured. “I remembered. Not sure why but the banshee’s cries kept bringin’ things to mind, and… “Dare he call Bilquis, Salim and Ibis friends? Were they? “My fr..companions... kept bringing things up. The bird god finished it off.” He licked his lips and watch her as she moved to get off him, her skirt brushing her ankles, her arms covered in faded gray and blue battle paint. “He reminded me of..., of Balor.” He said quietly.

Morrigan nodded and offered him a hand. He took it and rose, his legs feeling a bit weak. He figured it took time to get use to this spirit body of his now. Sweeney looked down at Morrigan, for she was diminutive, surprisingly. Taller than Laura, but smaller than most of their people. “Ibis is a grand storyteller; he is respected as far as our shores come and beyond.” She said, smiling slightly, she still stared at him, her gaze weighing him as if he stood before Anubis himself. 

“I went to battle. But not just for Laura.” He explained; the name foreign to say out loud. For months it had been dead wife, cunt and any manner of other put downs. Something felt sad inside that he’d never called her by his given name. Never gotten to. He blinked once, twice. “I am not a coward, Badb.” He said, dropping to his knees, using Morrigan’s battle crow name. He closed his eyes, “Oh how I should have listened to Eroann all those ages ago, you adapted, Brigid adapted. Everyone adapted that still were gods.” His shoulders drooped, “I went to battle with Grimnir for our people, for the day I ran from Mag Raith for fear of the banshee’s cries, dreadful things those.” He said, then glanced quickly up to see her quirk an eyebrow and smirk, but not say anything against him. “For all the times he and his people came into our country and brought their gods with them, I fought him to redeem myself, to show who I am, who I know that I am. I am a good man.” Sweeney was compelled to reach for her, his hands settling on her hips as if supplicating, he was rewarded by a hand on his hair, stroking as if he was her pet or child. The Morrigan was scores older than he, so the motherly touch was fitting. 

“He owed you a battle for all the little shit he made you do.” She purred, her fingers tangling through his ruddy hair, which was strangely growing and changing, becoming long again, the mats curling together again.  
“Aye.” He leaned his head against her at the junction of skirt and belly, her cool skin soothing his throbbing head. Looking down he saw that his modern clothes were slowly changing. His chest was now bare and the blue paint slowly curling over his biceps. “I want to be worthy.” He murmured. “I am my own man, and I owe no one nothin’.” He said with passion.  
“Stand, Shuibhne MacColmain.” Her voice was low and powerful, and the energy crackled around them. 

Sweeney lept to his feet, feeling the old familiar feel of his short kilt against his legs, the cool air circulating around him. He met the eyes of the death goddess. “I owe no one anything.” He purred, “Not even you, Morrigu.”  
Her gaze held him, she said nothing. She waited. “Have you fulfilled all that was asked of you in all of your lives? In all your incarnations, in everything that you have ever been, Shuibhne MacColmain?” A black eyebrow quirked.

“Aye.” He knew what she waited for, that thing that Ibis said he could change of course, for stories were truer than truth! The Egyptian had lept to his feet in an almost placating way, as if something in Sweeney’s story would break if forced to acknowledge his first guilt, his first battle shame. “I, Lugh, son of Eithne and Cian, slain my grandfather, Balor of the Evil Eye as was foretold of me. He that would have had me slain, he that I have thought of every time I saw Grimnir and his blasted one eye. I have paid all my debts.” He ground out. “Find me worthy, Morrigan. Gather my soul and take me Home. I am ready.”  
Morrigan smiled softly and tilted her head, “Lugh, my old friend.” She reached a hand to caress his face again, “My heart has longed to gather you to the home where our warriors go, to give you your rewards, I have waited each battle you fought, you have been the prize I have longed to collect.” Her eyes closed at that and she drew near him. “But you kept having a mission, a purpose, something that kept you surviving, as you always do.” She echoed Ibis’ words, her hands moving to his bare chest, “You owed me this death, and I accept your debt paid in full.” She took his hands and he smiled. Morrigan paused then, frowning.

“What’s wrong, my queen?” Sweeney questioned, drawing his head back a moment.  
“Something… isn’t right.” She purred, stepping close she caught his lips in a kiss, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Her kiss was cold but soon warmed and persisted till he gave in and kissed her back. Her fingernails dug into his biceps and he felt his spirt stir, wondering if she would gather him the way she had gathered some, with a quick fuck before they went. He was considering being very willing.  
Morrigan pulled back quickly, leaving Sweeney panting, his eyes heavy, “You are going back.” She stated.”  
“What?” he looked at her in confusion, he frowned deeply.  
“You’re not mad Sweeney anymore.” She said in quiet tones, “You redeemed all that you owed. You are not even Shuibhne MacColmain anymore.” She shook her head slowly and a murder of crows flew up from the tree line, “Oh no, my beautiful sun king.” She grinned, “You are well and truly Lugh again. The earliest image of yourself. Your power tingles through your body” Her face was flushed with pleasure and happiness and her eyes grew wild, wilder than his ever had been. Sweeney felt the energy of all three of her aspects filling the space between them. “You must go back.”

“You’re not taking me Home? No woodland girls for me to warm my bed?”  
She laughed wildly with joyful mirth, “Oh ye will have your taste in all women, but I think it is just one that you will wish to bed. What else do I reign over besides death, oh Sun King?” She quirked an eyebrow.

Sweeney stared at her for a few beats. “You’re resurrectin’ me.” He stated. “You’re sending me back to me body.”  
“Aye.” She nodded, “It is yet cold and uncut and at this very moment I believe you are being stolen by that wee lass you love so madly. Seems like she doesn’t want ye dead either.”  
There were three things Morrigan did to a dead person. If you died in battle, your odds were good you went to the lands of the gods with pleasures for eternity, if you were found worthy that is. Or she could send you to outer darkness, the void and chaos before time where you would float for all time, lost and mad. Or she could rebirth you, either as a wee babe or if fast enough your own body. 

Sweeney wanted to ask why, but wasn’t sure he should, for right now she was her most chaotic. She was embodying creative chaos, the void from which life sprang. “What do you mean, bein’ stolen?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“She’s cartin’ ye off from the Egyptians’ funeral home. I think she might be tryin’ to bring ya back. So, I’m gonna help the wee lass.”  
From the left and right came groups of two banshees, but these were calm and beautiful, their funeral garments wisping in the wind, white and clean, they bore wine flasks. “Drink of my wine, sun king.” She took a flask from one Banshee and offered it. 

“You’re forcin’ me to be resurrected?” He quirked a brow, taking the flask.  
“No. You are rebirthing’ yourself.” She stated, “You completed that process when ye paid your debts, when he fought your battle you owed not only Odin, but me as well. You remembered who you are and all the power that comes with bein’ King.” She pushed the flask towards his mouth a bit, “This is the message I felt from you when I kissed you, as much as you want the sweet lands of Home, you want to be able to call her by name, to have just one day with her and you want to feel that power running through a human body again.” Morrigan’s eyes held him, “Drink, Sweeney. Return to the world and be the sun king. Take what is yours and show no mercy.” Her eyes sparked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I wanted to wait til after the finale *just* in case the show the thing we're all hoping for... of course.. cliffie in that regards. I decided to continue this and make it a wild AU with all of my theories for the rest of the show, that is IF you guys want me to... I plan to make it fully madwife with sappy love and kisses and nookie and probably some insults because they're still who they are even tho they're... not dead anymore. I really want to explore what might happen as they go on the quest of Revenge as human and god. Ya'll in? Please leave me your thoughts, and even desires for future chapters and I will do my best to accommodate them :)

He was heavy. Super strength and all, and he was still heavy. His weight curled around her shoulders and Laura understood the meaning of ‘dead weight’ more than she ever had in her life to this point. She wasn’t sure where she was taking him, but it was away from all those other freaks. Away from Wednesday. Away from Shadow. And as the police had descended on the funeral home it had been the perfect time to take him. 

She had barely wanted to look at him at first. Feelings which she hated crept up through her and demanded her attention. Apparently, she was still alive enough to feel the pain through her solar plexus as she saw the proof of his death, watched his face for any sign that this was a ruse that he might revive himself and come up swinging and swearing. She had looked down to keep those hot tears she told Shadow she couldn’t cry from coming. 

Laura didn’t really want to take the time to wonder why he made her feel like this, I mean sure she *had* feelings through her life, and she *had* loved Shadow, she had been happy, sad… all of the basic human emotion. But with Sweeney it was different, more intense. “Not that it really matters now, we’re both dead.” She said aloud to his body, his limp hand flopping against her chest. If he were alive, he’d be making a smart remark. She hooked her arm more firmly around his thigh and absently stroked it. “It’ll be ok.” She said, “We’ll get you your coin back, I’ll drink the potion, something… and then we’ll go kill Wednesday.” She nodded slightly. “How I’m getting it *out* of me I have no idea, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” She kept up the one-sided conversation, wondering if he had any blood left in him, the answer came as a bit squished out from his wound as she carried him. “Damn. Maybe this angle wasn’t the best, but I don’t want to drag you.” She saw a car coming down the road and quickly as she could ducked into the woods and found a path that led to an old abandoned cabin. 

The roof was old and slightly rotted in some places with moss growing over it, there was a chimney closest to them on the side made of rock, with a sagging front porch and skeptical looking steps. The door was shut and no windows were broken and they were covered in decades of grime. Carefully Laura proceeded with her burden and thankfully reached the door without falling through the soft looking wood. 

She had to set him down then, propping him up against the wall, his head lolling to the side. Strange how he really looked asleep instead of dead, it was almost unnerving. Even in the mortuary his color had looked alive. “I think you may look creepier dead than I do.” She told him, trying the door. It was either stuck or locked. Laura backed up and kicked it in, the metal knob and lock mechanism falling off. Inside there was a rocking chair, a mattress on a iron bedframe (which honestly looked like a nice antique and it was a shame it was rotting away in here) a black old timey cookstove with its pipe sticking out the wall and still ashes in the fire place. Returning to Sweeney, she hauled him over her shoulder to go through the door and walked him to the bed, laying his top half down then hefting his legs onto the bed. He lay spread eagle, arms and legs lolling, again how was he not stiff as a fucking board? It had been at least 16 hours since he died, do leprechauns not get rigor mortis? She frowned, then shook her head. 

“Ok, I have no idea how I’m going to do this and honestly its just a shot in the dark and if it doesn’t work…” She drew a deep breath, “Please know that I am really sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t want you to die, I didn’t think you *could*.” She shrugged, shutting up quickly and looking around the ceiling. “If I give you the coin before I try the potion, I’ll be dead, and you’ll be totally alive, and I don’t think you want that.” She looked down at him, “I’m the biggest supporter of denial but I’m not stupid, Sweeney.” She moved to prop his hand on his stomach more comfortably, her thumb caressing him against her will. “Here goes nothing.” She murmured, fishing the potion from her pocket, shaking it a bit and reaching for his wound, “I would say this might hurt, but…” She quirked a brow and sunk a finger into the congealing mess. It was hard to measure what two drops might be and she held the bottle close as she gathered what she could, corking it again she shook it again, wiping her fingers on his ruined shirt, closed her eyes and tossed it back. 

Laura gagged, it was horrible. It tasted like death itself. She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from throwing it back up and closed her eyes against the taste. Suddenly dizzy she moved to sit in the rocker with a thud as her extremities tingled as if they had been asleep for months. Her eyes flew open as she felt her heart beat. Once. Twice. She placed her hand on her chest as she felt it begin a rhythm. Her fucking heart was beating. 

Suddenly she screamed once in pain and thrust forward, grasping her chest. “Fuck.” She said, squeezing her eyes shut she could *feel* Sweeney’s coin moving out of place as if it knew her desires for it to be gone and to return to its master. She fell to her hands and knees fighting the desire to curl up and cry from the pain as it travelled from near her heart towards her skin, trying to find the stitches that used to be there. Laura bit her lip and undid her dress, panting as it made a slit in her skin, plopping onto her lap, bloody and shiny. All that was on her skin was a crescent shaped cut that was steadily dripping blood. Real blood. Living blood. Laura put her fingers in it, suddenly realizing she needed to stop that bleeding. Scrambling she luckily found some old rags by the stove and held it to her chest until the bleeding stopped. She needed to find something to stitch herself up with, but unfortunately no one had left any needles or thread behind and she was alive now and couldn’t risk infection. She wound the strips of rag around her small chest tight enough to keep pressure on the cut and picked up the coin from the floor. 

Carrying it to the bed, she observed him again. What if he didn’t want to come back? What if he was some where he was happy? At rest. He certainly looked at rest. Was it selfish to try this? Maybe a little. And maybe it wouldn’t even work, maybe giving him back his coin would do nothing now that he was dead. I mean… his luck had run completely out right? Laura rubbed her neck with one hand and sighed, slipping into the spear wound much like he’d placed it in her chest. Then she waited. 

It was hours. She moved around the cabin, checking out things, back to the chair to sit, then to the bed to look at him, then wandered around again. It was getting nearly dark when she came back to the bed and sat by his legs, sighing. “Fuck.” She said, her face full of disappointment. Maybe he wasn’t coming… 

You could call it a roar. Definitely call it a roar as he sat straight up, eyes flying open and nothing less than a battle cry coming from his lips. Laura jumped to her feet out of his way as he sat there a moment, panting as if waking from a nightmare or coming through the hoard. He shook his head a bit, getting away of his surroundings and suddenly stood, his eyes locking on Laura he reached for her pulling her too him and before she could say or do anything he kissed her. Hard. Cupping her face with his huge hands his lips worked hers with a fever, tongue pressing against them. 

Laura raised her hands to push him away and found that she couldn’t. She was as weak as a kitten against him and she felt fear for the first time in months. “Sweeney.” She managed when he came up for air, “You’re scaring me.” For he was, his passion and intensity was overwhelming her and his fingers bruising the arms he now gripped, his eyes wild as he looked at her, he was touching her as if she still had super strength that matched his currently and she didn’t anymore. He was different. Very, very different. The energy coming from his was powerful and in some ways madder than he had been previously. His grip loosened and he knelt, pulling her close and nuzzling her, laying gentle kisses on her neck. 

“I’m sorry.” His accent was thick and music to her ears and she let her eyes shut, her hand coming to his hair of its own volition. “Sweet, spirited Laura.” He murmured, saying her name over and over as he rained kisses over her face. 

Okay so he just came back from the dead. Everyone deals differently. Laura would let him… deal… like this for a bit longer but she wasn’t sure she was ready to be all kissy kissy and sappy with him. Shadow had basically just broken up with her for good. Her death had ended their marriage and his words “don’t call me puppy” had marked the end of their love. 

“I don’t think sweet is a compliment anyone has given me since I was a baby.” Laura said, stepping back. She was struggling with her feelings again. She was beyond thrilled it had worked but didn’t know if she really wanted to show him that she was as happy as he was. “Are. Did you want to come back? I didn’t know… I mean you could have been …” She shrugged and crossed her arms looking down again. 

“Balls deep in a forest faerie and drunk out of my mind?” He grinned and she couldn’t help smile back. 

“yeah.”

“Well, I wasn’t, but thanks for considerin’ my afterlife happiness.” He moved away from her and stretched, cracking his neck before stripping off his ruined jacket, shirt and under shirt. Laura’s mouth opened in surprise as the wound was completely healed over and his body looked more built than she remembered it. Bigger, bulkier, more muscles if possible. 

“You… You look different.” She mused, tilting her head. 

Sweeney shrugged, tossing the old clothes in the fire place and lighting them up, “Well, I am.” He watched the fire burn, “Before I died I remembered a lot of who I was… am… dyin’ changes you, and so I’m changed.” He stood again and faced her, smirking slightly as he watched her gaze wander over his chest and stomach. He could smell her. That was new, yet old. He didn’t remember smelling someone for thousand years. She was alive. Actually, fully alive. And conflicted. He smelled womanly appreciation in his looks, but he smelled heartbreak, regret and sadness that was her constant friend as well. “You ok,Laura?” her name sounded weird coming from his lips. 

Laura took a breath, “Uh, yeah. Yeah I’m good.” She nodded. 

He nodded, not believing her and reached to touch his chest and watched her eyes go wide when he retrieved the reviving coin, then it was gone again, back into his hoard. “Better put that in a safe place so I don’t loose it again.’ He said quietly. Silence hung between them now. Eventually he sat back down and kept watching her, a small smile playing on his face. 

“I thought, maybe you’d be more like I was after I took the coin.” She said. 

“A zombie?” He smirked.

“Well, yeah.”

“Different when you’re a god.”

“You’re a leprechaun.”

“No. Well, yes and no. Originally a god.” He tilted his head, his eyes looking up to the side. “Appears I’m back to being a god. Which is a nice change from all the cloudy fuck in my head.” It was now completely dark outside and they could hear crickets in the distance. 

“You seem really happy to be alive again.” She mused, her arms still crossed and she hadn’t moved from her spot as if she was glued to the floor. 

“I suppose. I was sent back, for reasons.” He watched her, “You had help bringing me back, by the way, and I think I’m right in thinkin’ you’re wanting to go after One eye as much as I am.”

Laura smiled slightly, “It’s my plan.” She remembered now what Bilquis had said about needing power behind her when she went against Wednesday. Well, looks like she had her muscle now. “Shadow will try to stop us but maybe with both of us… “ She sighed, “Except I seem to be completely human again, no super strength.” She moved to plop down beside him, but not too close!

“Aye, I noticed that when I had you in my hands.” He said, his voice husky, “Is ‘aight though.” He wanted to touch her again, he felt so much different and whole and in that state he could come to terms with how he really felt about her, but at the same time the rush of feelings felt foreign and not really *him*. “We should rest before we go on.” He said, moving to put his legs up without bumping her. “Your welcome to lie here with me, I promise I won’t be bad.” He grinned at her, his hazel eyes sparkling. “I need to come off this feelin’ of being alive again, let myself settle… and I think you need some settlin’ too.” He watched her, moving an arm behind his head, invitation clear.

The night was a tad chilly and the door would only shut most of the way, and Sweeney was right, she needed to process all of this, for she was fully alive too now and everything was just SO much. Slowly Laura curled up next to him, her back to his side, arms around her own legs and shut her eyes. It took her awhile before her first sleep in months overtook her and she really thought she must be dreaming when Sweeney’s large form curled around her and held her close in their sleep.


End file.
